


Three women scorned

by SketchLockwood



Category: 15th Century CE RPF, Historical RPF, The Hollow Crown: The Wars of the Roses (2016), The Sunne in Splendour - Sharon Kay Penman, The Wars of the Roses Fiction, The White Queen (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 16:21:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11855277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SketchLockwood/pseuds/SketchLockwood
Summary: Short extracts I wrote based on three women whom were supposedly in some way used by Edward IV





	Three women scorned

**London, Late 1462**

How could he? How could he do this? Elizabeth Lucy paced back and forth, her hand rested upon her swelling belly. How could he be so cold?

_“Elizabeth.” He had greeted her with his usual warm embrace, yet something had been different. She had known from the moment he had entered the house that something was different. “My love.” His hand lingered on her cheek, thumb gently stroking the bottom of her eye. Like he had known she would cry, of course he had known she would cry. How could he not? “Elizabeth.” He repeated, his voice as soft and tender as though he were speaking to a child._

_“Edward-“_

_“Sweet Elizabeth.”_

_“What is wrong?” She whispered._

She had expected one day he may tell her, one day it would be announced he would marry. Of course she had expected that he would marry, with reluctance, some French Princess. How could he not when he was such an important man? But with reluctance, for all the time had he not said he loved her? Had he not said that as she feared the labour of their first child? Had he not said he loved her, not she was serving the needs of the King of England, like a common doxy?

She wiped a tear. Yes, she had.

_“I have come to tell you, this is the last time I will call on you.”_

_She had not known what to say when he had spoken those words. Her only action to pull away from him as though his touch burned, and indeed it did._

_“What, why? You are to marry? You told me that when you married this would not end. Edward, you told me you loved me.”_

_“And I do, as the mother of my daughter, I do love you. But Elizabeth, I have seen this must come to an end.”_

_“There has been no announcement of your marriage to a French Princess, or a Spanish-“_

_“Because there is no Princess, there is no marriage. Elizabeth, there is another woman and she is worthy of my attention-“_

_“You may court elsewhere Ned, I do not demand your fullest attention-“_

He had said nothing more, only looked at her with what she saw as a cold sympathy. Cold in that, he would never change his decision she knew. He did not say a word, and that she liked to assume was because he couldn't. Because this hurt too much, as it hurt her.

Eleanor that was her name he had told her, Eleanor Butler. Like that should mean something. Eleanor….

***

 

Eleanor watched the water flow beneath the convents walls, her brown eyes dull. Whatever words he may have said, whatever vows they may have uttered, in truth it had not meant anything. Why had she been surprised? When she thought on it, she knew she should not be. Not when she had grown to know the woman he had deserted for her. Not when she had visited the children, the two tiny children, he had left her with.

But to be ditched for Elizabeth Woodville? A common Lancastrian widow?

It mattered little, now. She had chosen this life, chosen a different life. She had chosen to rid herself of London, of the thought, the memory of him. The memory of a marriage dead before it had truly begun.

Yet she could not forget how she had found out.

 _"The king announced his marriage." That had been the talk of London. A piece of news not unexpected_.

How naive she had been. Naive to believe that he may have announced her marriage. That he might have chosen wisely his words, that he may have truly loved her.

_"Nell." His words were soft when he next saw her, though he was greeted only with hardness. With a coldness of ice raised from hatred for all he had done. For all the advantage he had taken from her widowed, fatherless state. "Sweet Nell-"_

_"Do not!" She had raised her hand to slap him, holding back only for his eyes commanded it. "Do not call me it and do not think to touch me. I wish you were nowhere near me."_

_"Then you make this easier." He looked to the floor, like he was a scolded child. How many times has he tried this Nell? Was all she could think. When he does not win- though any thought of sentimental pity fled when he looked up. "No one can know of what passed between us, and you must surely know that-"_

_"Know it, for both, I do not care a shred for your reputation nor your future, but I care for my own. I will not be the harlot of London. None would believe my word above your spin master Warwick."_

_"Warwick has no more love for Beth than you-"_

_"Then maybe I can detest him a little less. Bigemy is a sin Edward. A mortal sin. But I will be discreet."_

_"It is that Nell or-"_

He had no reason to continue no reason to tell her that if she did not comply he would imprison her, or worse. She had decided then, in an instant, to be free of the restraints of London.

***

**Windsor Castle, Summer 1477**

It was the summer of discontent, Elizabeth noted. The summer from which, forever, she may look at her husband with nothing but contempt. Once he had told her she was irreplaceable, and was that not why he had risked all and married her? He had said it so. Yet words she had learnt meant nothing to him. They were objects he formed quite without intention or meaning.

How had she come to those? From a loving marriage with a passion, to a cold and distant relationship involved only with an occasional bedding like the Yorkist calf bearer he seemed now to think her. The woman he barely glanced at any more, though the woman whose beauty he once desired.

Her fall from grace had been both swift and undeserving, as he had begun to look at another with the eyes she had once been offered. Elizabeth Shore had visited court only once before he had set his eyes into her. The pretty young thing, mousy hair and green eyes so deep you could, he said, see emeralds. Her breasts more plump for lack of childbearing and her smile wide, her blush rosy. Christ how she hated him, how she could not stand to look at him. How she could not stand to look at her.

_"Elizabeth she is nothing more than my mistress-"_

_"Mistress." At that she had laughed. "Why do you need one of those? Am I not enough for you? Do I no longer satisfy your needs your desires? Need I can try harder?" He had given her nothing, like he did not want to give her anything. "You bastard." She had muttered, he grabbed her hands, stopping her onslaught as she had gone to pound his chest with clenched fists. "I have put up with your whoring, your brief spells of fantasy and now, how so you repay but to take a mistress, a long standing mistress, and will she ever leave because Ned it does not feel like it."_

_"She is here to stay." His voice had been almost solemn. Almost._

_"Will you breed her like livestock as well? For you, Edward, are no longer welcome in my bed for only a brief time. You are no longer permitted to simply use me, I am your wife-"_

_"My wife and the queen of England and as such, my dear, you have a responsibility p, a duty. So do not think to forbid me my rights, for that would be unwise."_


End file.
